


5 Times Altaïr Rejected Touch + 1 Time He Welcomed It

by Arkaidou



Series: سوف أحبك حتى أموت (I will love you until I die) [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Light Angst, M/M, Not Beta Read, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Touch-Starved, i am a sucker for touch starved characters, if nobody is gonna write anymore malik/altaïr fics leave it to me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29447919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkaidou/pseuds/Arkaidou
Summary: Basically a 5+1 fic with Altaïr and Malik
Relationships: Malik Al-Sayf/Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad
Series: سوف أحبك حتى أموت (I will love you until I die) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2163270
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	5 Times Altaïr Rejected Touch + 1 Time He Welcomed It

1

The sun was blazing hot yet the wind was cool, a nice touch which was refreshing and new considering how they had been getting more heatwaves this summer. Out on the field were all the novices, enjoying the one break they had off, finally able to escape the heat. Many rested in the shade or were play fighting with each other, happy they're getting more chances to talk. Altaïr laid on the spiky grass underneath the tree he was resting by, watching the clouds slowly move along the vibrant blue sky. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh, this was nice. 

"What are you doing? Don't you want to play with the others?" Altaïr glanced up, seeing another robed figure. He looked back up at the sky and hummed "No, this is nice." it was silent for a few beats, he could feel the other assassin still with him. "Do you want to join me and Kadar?" Altaïr sat up, looking up at the figure. He smiled. "Sure," standing up he looked at the other assassin, his hood was off and he had short black hair. They held their hand out to Altaïr, "I am Malik." Altaïr kept his arms to his sides, declining the handshake. "I'm Altaïr."

2

To say what happened at Solomon's temple was a disaster would be an _understatement_. Nevertheless, the Creed had to recover from it and move on and continue with their plans to stop the Templars, but it wasn't that simple. Malik had lost a part of him, not only his arm but one who mattered to him the most, his baby brother, _Kadar_. It was Altaïr's fault, his arrogance had caused him to lose his chance on killing Robert. Because of such he was deranked by Al Maulim, all the way down to Novice, the lowest rank. He had been humiliated in front of the entire Creed from this, and rightfully so. But he was given a chance to climb back up to the top again, thank the gods.

Malik though, on the other hand, had been promoted to Dai, and owner of the Jerusalem bureau. Left to make sure the novices and other assassins complete their tasks and kill their targets. He had been enraged at this, the man who got his arm cut off, brother killed, and let Robert escape was given a second chance to climb back up the ranks! Meanwhile he was left to tend after clumsy and unskilled novices and stay cooped up in his bureau making maps. Now Altaïr had been tasked with killing Talal, meaning he and Malik would have to face each other again. This would be the first time they've seen each other since the Temple. 

Altaïr dropped down in the bureau, his boots hitting the stone with a _thud_. The sound of the rushing water from the well behind him bringing a sense of peace to counter his uneasiness. He was not scared. No. Just... not sure how he'll deal with the next few events. He can see glimpses of Malik in the entryway. Taking a deep breath he heads in, "Safety and peace, Malik." Malik was arranging books when he turns around to meet Altaïr's stiff form, but it had not revealed any signs of emotions. "Your presence here deprives me of both." He snarled. Well, this is a start. "What do you want?" he asks, he makes no attempt to hide his annoyance. Altaïr clears his throat, "Al Maulim has asked-" "Asked that you perform some menial tasks in an effort to redeem yourself..." Malik spat, "So be out with it." "Tell me what you can about the one they call Talal." He keeps his voice firm, emotionless, he will not let Malik catch him vulnerable. "It is your duty to locate and assassinate the man on fire, not mine." So Altaïr sets out, leaving the bureau to learn more of Talal through interrogation and eavesdropping. In the end he is given the sign to go by Malik. He hands Altaïr the feather, holding his hand out. Altaïr stands there awkwardly until Malik scoffs and leaves it on his desk, turning around to go back to tidying his bureau. Altaïr quickly swipes the feather and is gone before Malik can turn back around.

3

Change in Altaïr was noticeable, yes, he was still a novice (In Malik's eyes, at least), but he was changing. He was learning from his mistakes, his arrogance, and what it truly means to be an assassin. This change was good, and although Malik could barely tolerate Altaïr anymore, he was still going to welcome this change. He'd rather this Altaïr than the one from the Temple.

Malik could hear the familiar thud of boots on his bureau floor as the assassin walked in. "Safety and peace, Malik." Altaïr greeted. "Wear that the city was possessed of either. Why do you trouble me today?" Altaïr straightened his posture. "Al Maulim has marked me to Dean for death, what can you tell me about him?" Malik placed the quill down in the ink tray, watching it dry on where he was detailing the map. "Salah Hadees absence has left the city without a proper leader, and mister Dean has appointed himself to play the part." Altaïr noticed Malik's brow furrow, annoyed at the thought of these evil men. "Fear and intimidation get him what he wants, he has naught to reclaim to the position." "That ends today." Of course, he hadn't changed. "You speak too readily, this is not some slaver we're discussing. He rules Jerusalem and is well protected because of it, I suggest you plan your attack carefully. Get to better know your prey." Altaïr looked at Malik, taking quick glances at his arm but getting his point across, "With your help I will. Where would you have me search?" Malik was surprised at this, the "great" Altaïr admitting he needs others help? Malik smirks at this, "What's this?" He mused, seeing how Altaïr fidgeted with the end of his robes, turning his head slightly away. "You're actually asking for my assistance instead of demanding it. I'm impressed." he caught a quick glimpse of Altaïr's glaring eyes under his hood. "Be out with it." 

"As you wish. Here's where I would look..." Malik explains what Altaïr needs to do if he wants to collect information on his target. Malik comes from behind the counter to collect a rolled up map behind Altaïr, picking it up and placing it on his counter. He turns back to Altaïr and places a hand on his shoulder, noticing how he tensed up quickly at the action. "Don't foul this, Altaïr." He sees how the corners of the mans lips frown slightly before he gently shrugs Malik's shoulder off before rushing off. Malik swears he saw a blush on Altaïr's face.

4

Shit. _Shit_. **Shit!**

He should've been more careful, now all of Jerusalem knew he was here. He had to get out, and quick. He scampered up the walls of the base he was in and ran across the roofs and platforming, his feet running before he could tell them too, air rushing out of his lungs as quickly as they were rushing in. There were god knows how many guards behind him, yelling for him to stop, yelling for him to die, wishing to claim his head. he jumped over a pillar and onto the next, and the next, and the last one before he tumbled down on impact, impact of an arrow lodging itself deep in his side. Yelping out in pain as he collapsed on the dirt below him, Altaïr quickly got up and began running again. Ignoring the burning pain in his side he spotted a rooftop garden and leaped in, groaning as quietly as he could as he felt the arrow lodge deeper in his side. He heaved out heavy yet quiet breaths, waiting until the commotion outside died down.

After who knows how long he felt dizzy, but could no longer hear the bell or their gruff shouts. Hopping out, Altaïr carried himself to the bureau which he thankfully was closer to than he thought. Clutching his side he walks over the lattice, going over to the ledge of it and drop down, instead he looses his footing in his daze and tumbles down with a grunt. 

He lets out heavy breaths, his vision blurring. He can faintly hear the faint scratching of Malik's quill stop and his footsteps approaching. "Altaï-" he hears his voice abruptly stop. "Novice!" Malik growls out in shock. There on his floor was Altaïr, an arrow in his side and his robes covered in blood. Christ, what had happened? "You idiot novice, you need to be more careful!" He shouts out going to Altaïr's side, hearing the man mumble something. "Don't. Save your energy, and stay awake dammit." Malik tries to lift up Altaïr, but its difficult with one arm, he goes for dragging his limp almost lifeless body into his bureau instead, hurrying to find his medical supplies he keeps in case novices like Altaïr are injured.

He goes back to Altaïr and lifts the mans arm away from where it rests on his side near the arrow. "What did you do to get this?" "Wasn' careful... got shot." he mumbled. "Clearly, here, novice." Malik places his hand on the arrow, earning a hiss from the half unconscious novice under him. "I'm going to pull this out on three, it'll hurt." He breathes through his nose in approval. "One, two, three-" he hears a sharp intake of breath from Altaïr, the man too weak to even scream. 

Malik gets to work, derobing Altaïr's top half of his outfit and hood, patching up the wound and stitching it together, then wrapping Altaïr's lower torso and waist in bandages, already seeing them stain red from blood. It was a hassle with one arm but he managed to get it done. He places a hand on the man's forehead, feeling him shiver from the contact, his face scrunching up in discomfort, he seemed more uncomfortable with the contact than he did with Malik ripping the arrow out. "How do you feel?" "'M fine. I.." Altaïr let out a shaky breath as Malik rested his hand on Altaïr's hair "I killed my target." "I know, novice. Now rest, you need it." Malik pet Altaïr's brown curls, seeing the man shiver and try to back away from it, making Malik retract his hand. 

5

It was later than Malik wished when he had got back to his bureau, buying more medical supplies and also some of the man's favorite fruits for his wounds and pain. When he got back he didn't expect to see Altaïr sitting on his bureau floor, a bottle of wine in hand. He could see that the man didn't even bother to put his shirt or hood back on. Sighing in annoyance he placed the supplies and fruit on his counter and stood in front of the novice, looking down at him.

Well, he couldn't really say he was a novice now, could he? He had climbed the ranks quicker than Malik would have expected. "What are you doing?" He sighed in annoyance, pinching his nose and scowling. "The wine helps with the pain." Altaïr slurred slightly. "So wouldn't resting, Altaïr!" He shook his head. No, he was _still_ a novice.

Malik slid down the wall and sat next to Altaïr, who offered the bottle to him but he declined. "That wasn't for you, you know." "Then why was it there then?" Was... that a joke? Altaïr actually makes jokes? He didn't think the man had any room for humor in his body, saving all that space in there for arrogance. 

"Why aren't you resting though? You can't feel the wound's pain if you're not awake." "Can't. 'M not tired... but, I am." Malik stared silently at the other assassin. "What do you mean?" He asked, only to get no reply. "I'm so exhausted but I can't sleep. Haven't been able to for 'while." "How long?" Malik inquired, concerned for the novice. Had he not been getting the rest he needs lately? "'M not sure, can't remember. 'week maybe?" "A week? Altaïr, you need sleep, how will you do your missions if you're barely awake?" Malik put his arm on Altaïr's shoulder, the man violently flinched away at this, ripping his arm away. "Don't!" He could see fear laced in Altaïr's eyes, looking back at Malik, as if he was seeing someone else.

"What? What's-" "'don't like... touch." "Why?" "It's useless, a waste of time, 'only time you need to touch others is when you need to kill them." What was Altaïr on about? He sounded insane, like a rambling old man. Malik snatched the bottle away from the other man and bent over to lift the other man to his feet. Grabbing the novice's arm and placing it over his shoulders and wrapping his arm around Altaïr's waist, careful of the wound. The other man started to squirm. "Let go of me!" He shouted, trying to wiggle out of Malik's strong grip on his waist. "I'll kill you!" Malik lowered his arm and put pressure on Altaïr's wound, making the man stop squirming. "You're drunk, novice!" 

Malik carried the man down the hall, dropping him on a cot hearing him hiss harshly, a pang of guilt hitting him from hurting his friend. "You won't get away with this!" "Who do you think I am, Altaïr?" Malik spat at him. "I'm not going to hurt you." He assures firmly. "You're a guard, I'm 'n assassin, don't lie." Did Altaïr think he was an enemy? Why? " _Allah_ give me the patience." Malik scowls, "Sleep, novice, it's me, Malik. We'll talk in the morning."

+1

Malik looked down at the map he was scrawling on, dwelling over last night's event's. What did Altaïr mean, why did he think he was a guard. He was left confused. Why...

_"It's useless, a waste of time, 'only time you need to touch others is when you need to kill them."_

Oh. That made sense. 

Altaïr thought he was the enemy, a guard, someone who wanted him dead. And all because he had touched him. That just left Malik even more confused, hurt, and even... a little mad. Who had hurt Altaïr that he had that mentality? While he was lost in his thoughts he saw the man leave his room, clutching his head. He was back in his robes. "Altaïr." the man looked back at Malik, he could see the man's eyes under his hood, dazy and tired. "Did you sleep well?" Altaïr tensed at this, swallowing before answering, "Yes, I slept fine. Why do you ask?" "Just checking." Oh? That was confusing, he didn't think Malik would bother to ask that. He didn't think Malik liked him. "I wanted to talk about last night." So that's what he wanted. "Oh." "Oh?" "I... If I said or did anything, I apologize, I didn't mean to-" Malik grunted at this. "No, novice. You didn't do anything." He didn't? Then why...

Malik came from behind the counter and faced Altaïr. Looking him in the eye. "I would never hurt you, I want you to know this. Altaïr, look at me." Altaïr hesitantly looks back up at Malik. "You're safe here, I won't let them hurt you as long as you're here with me." Malik reached out and cupped Altaïr's cheek, rubbing his thumb on his face, softly, caringly, tenderly. Altaïr froze up at first from the contact.

_"You're safe here, I won't let them hurt you as long as you're here with me."_

_"You're safe here,"_

_"I won't let them hurt you"_

_"You're here with me."_

And just this once, Altaïr let himself be held, to be comforted, to be loved. He shakily sighed and melted into Malik's touch.

**Author's Note:**

> ty for reading this, i enjoyed writing it and i hope you were able to enjoy it. i plan on writing a second part set some time later in this story that includes smut but i dont know when ill get to it


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